Car Trouble
by Wench77
Summary: Rory should have had her car looked at before she tried to drive all the way to Texas. I own nothing and know nothing about cars . Review please!
1. Chapter 1

"Dammit!" Rory mumbled as her car sputtered to a halt. Sighing, she picked up her cell and dialed the familiar number.

"Hello?"

"I thought it wasn't supposed to rain in Texas!"

"Oh, no, sweetie," came her mother's reply. "I think you're mixing the confederate states up with that place where the Sims live again. Texans have rain. And Stetsons, instead of those funny floating green things above their heads."

Rory pouted. "Well, either way, it sucks. And I am nowhere near Dallas, and the car's died on me, and at this rate I'll never be there in time to cover the conference and I'll have driven all this way for nothing!"

"Car trouble? Well, let me see. It'll probably be the spigot." In the background Rory could hear a muted scuffle, Lorelai hissing "What? A spigot is a real thing!" before turning her attention back to the phone. "Uh huh, yeah, definitely the spigot. The left hand one. Under the phalange, next to the doodah, it's– Ow! Listen, honey," she sighed, "Luke is feeling kind of left out here. You just humor him for a minute and then Mom'll get you all fixed up. Where are you anyway?"

Rory squinted through the driving rain at the road sign. "Um… Dillon, home of the panthers?"

"Oh my God, Luke, there are panthers there!" She heard her mom shriek playfully as the phone was passed over. Then a familiar voice. "Panthers?"

"I'm thinking sports," she replied dryly. "I'm not sure which I'd prefer."

"Right," he said vaguely, focused on the problem at hand. "What have you done to your car?"

"I didn't _do_ anything! It just, sort of…whined"

"Whined?"

"Yeah! And then it kind of went -" here she attempted to recreate the sputtering noise the engine had made as it shuddered to a halt, with limited success, " – and now it won't go!"

"Any smoke?"

She squinted out at the hood of the car. "There might be steam. It's hard to tell with the rain."

"Quick, tell her to run away in slow motion before it blows," she heard her mother yelling in the background. Luke ignored her, which was probably for the best.

"That'll be your radiator, Rory. Nothing you can do except get the car to a mechanic tomorrow. I _told_ you, you get Gypsy to check everything before you try a drive this long! Anything could have happen-"

Thankfully, a pair of headlights appeared on the road before he could go into full lecture mode.

"Oh, hang on - someone's passing. I should go flag them down, get a ride into town."

His reply was panicked. "You can't just get into a car with some redneck!"

"You're right," she told him mock-seriously. "I should ask them which way they vote and hold out for a democrat. Seriously, Luke, I'm stranded in a monsoon here. I can't really afford to be picky."

"Fine." He grunted in reply. "But you be careful!"

"Mace in my purse," she chirped, "Bye!"

Hanging up, she slid out of her seat, grabbing her bag, and started making her way towards the already slowing car. It was a beat up pickup truck, she noted. _How very Texan. _

By the time the car had pulled to a halt besides her a few moments later she was soaked to the skin. He hair clung to her face in damp strands as she peered through the passenger window.

"Need a ride?" the guy inside yelled, struggling to be heard over the downpour.

"Please!" She shouted back, nodding. He reached over and pushed open the door, and she climbed in gratefully, shaking droplets of water from her hair.

"Thanks," she said, turning to look at her rescuer properly. And… _Oh, my_, she thought, taking him in. Redneck, certainly, from the plaid shirt unbuttoned to halfway his chest to his worn out cowboy boots. Dark brown hair, longer than she liked on a guy, hung scruffily into his eyes. But he was _gorgeous._ And the grin he was shooting her now said he was well aware of this fact.

"Not from around here?" he drawled, laying the good ol' boy accent on thick as he gave her sodden dress a slow once over. Rory was furious with herself for blushing, and crossed her arms defensively as she replied.

"Not so much. On my way to Dallas for work, and I guess I got a little turned around."

He laughed softly, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth, and she tried to pretend it didn't sent a jolt of electricity through her. He had no business looking like that, she told herself, struggling to maintain her composure.

"I'll say," he answered, pulling back onto the road. "Where can I take ya?"

"Um, is there a motel in town?" she asked. "I think I'm going to have to get my car looked at in the morning."

He nodded. "No problem. I'd take a look myself if it wasn't for the weather."

"Thanks," she said again, settling into her seat and fastening her seatbelt. "I'm Rory, by the way."

"Tim," he replied, glancing away from the road to wink at her. She blushed despite herself.

They passed a few minutes in companionable enough silence, before he spoke again.

"So, work, huh? I'dve pegged you as a college kid."

She smiled. "I was. Journalist now, with the Hartford Courant. I'm supposed to be covering the Republican conference in Dallas this weekend, only it doesn't look like I'll be seeing much of it now."

He looked surprised. "You look kinda young to be out of college."

She shrugged. People always said that.

"Where'd you go?"

"Yale," she answered tentatively. It was stupid, but she felt kind of awkward telling this guy that she was ivy league educated. If the name impressed him, he didn't show it.

"Yale. That's good, right?"

Rory shrugged again. "I guess."

He smiled. "Round here we're more about the footballing colleges, y'know? TMU, Alabama. They recruit Panthers sometimes. I might even be able to score a free ride."

It was her turn to be surprised. "You're in _high school_?" He nodded. "Oh. It's just, you know, I thought… You look older." She finished lamely. He looked at her again.

"I'm mature." He deadpanned. She raised her eyebrows.

"A mature jock? Right." He smirked. Just then the car turned a corner, and a clattering sound drew her attention to the floor. Looking down, she saw several empty beer bottles rolling around their feet, and her eyes were nervous as she turned back to Tim. Following her gaze, he laughed.

"Not from tonight. And I'd be able to get us there safely even if they were."

Only partly reassured, Rory turned to the window, looking out at the rainsoaked town. A few moments later, Tim pulled up in front of a dingy looking motel.

"Finest establishment in all of Dillon," he told her, gesturing at the neon sign. She grabbed her bag and reached for the door handle.

"Right. Well, thanks again." She told him, inexplicably nervous as she opened her door. He grinned.

"Any time, Rory."

And with that, he peeled out of the lot, leaving her standing in the rain. She watched the truck disappear around a corner, then shook herself and headed to the reception to check in.

_This is ridiculous, Gilmore,_ she told herself sternly. _You are a grown woman. You do not get all flustered because some teenager __**winks**__ at you. Winks! Who even does that?_

Still, when she dumped her bag on the floor in her sparsely furnished room, she was just a little breathless. Shaking her head, she pulled out her cell.

"Rory! The redneck hasn't run off to have his wicked way with you?" It was the strangest thing, but Lorelai could have sworn she detected a faint note of regret in her daughter's voice as Rory assured her that she was unravaged.

"Luke was sure you'd be putting the lotion in the basket by now. How many teeth did he have?"

Rory smiled, gazing out of the window as she settled into the conversation.

"I don't know. A normal amount of teeth, I guess."

"A full set?!"

"A full set."

Overhead the storm worsened, as Rory curled up on the bed and began to describe Tim Riggins to her mother.


	2. Chapter 2

Rory's eyes snapped open as she came to with a start. Breathing heavily, she glanced around at the shadows the moonlight cast around an unfamiliar room.

_Dillon_, her brain reminded her, before she could start totally panicking. _Dillon, Texas. Home of the Panthers._

The word Panthers sent another jolt of panic through her. What had happened last night? The car had totally crapped out on her, she remembered that. And the mechanic she has managed to drag out to it in the morning had sucked in his breath through his teeth and told her the engine was 'Just about plum wore out', whatever that meant. Sure to be expensive, anyway.

And then she had missed the conference and her editor had totally reamed her out, and _then_ she had read in the New York Times online that Mitchum Huntzberger was proud to announce the engagement of his son to a Miss Laura Asquith. So she had not been in the best of moods when she had stormed into Applebees and devoured a full rack of ribs.

And then… _Tequila_, she thought. _A lot of tequila_. So much tequila, in fact, that the waitress – a pretty young blonde who had been pestering her for info about Yale all night – had mildly told her she was being cut off, and offered to call her a cab.

Then – the memory was hazy, and Rory winced as the concentration sent a spike of pain through her head, which she now realized was pounding. _Then_, she had argued a little. Refused the cab and tried to stalk out of the restaurant, to somewhere that would still serve her.

_The stalking had proved a little beyond me_, she thought, seeing vague visions of repeated collisions with formica tables, and rubbing ruefully at a bruise blossoming on her pale forearm. More clattering, the waitress moving to help her, and then…

_Oh God_, she thought, as the next part of the evening came flooding back.

That was when she walked straight into him. Gorgeous as she remembered and just as scruffy, Tim Riggins had propped her up in the doorway, dark eyes amused. The blonde seemed happy enough to hand her over to him, and then she was in his car, then in the motel.

_Did… Oh Lord, did he carry me? _Rory thought, burying her face in her hands in mortification. He did, she was almost sure. She half remembered being clasped to a broad chest, her arms wrapped tightly – too tightly – around a warm neck. How had she let herself get into that state?

_Car's ready this afternoon_, she reminded herself. _And then I can leave Dillon, and this mess, behind me forever_.

Somewhat cheered, she suddenly became aware of the fact that her mouth was paper dry. Clumsily, she levered herself out of the bed, only to bring her foot down on something warm.

Something warm that _moved_.

And grunted.

Groggily, the something stood up and revealed itself to be a disheveled and shirtless – it was a testament to the man that the sight of his bare chest could give her a thrill even when she was this hungover – Tim Riggins. He squinted at Rory in the dim light.

"You're up. And, uh…" As he trailed off, Tim gestured vaguely towards Rory, ducking his head in an affectation of embarrassment – though his eyes never left her. With a squawk, Rory looked down and realized she was wearing nothing but a pair of faded blue panties. As she snatched up the bedsheet and bundled it clumsily around herself, Tim grimaced in obvious embarrassment.

"I, uh, I didn't. You… I mean it was your- you know," he finished lamely, gesturing at her. Rory flushed as the meaning of his words sunk in.

"_I_ took my clothes off?"

He nodded, still looking at the ground, but the barest hint of a smile was beginning to play across his features. Rory sat on the bed with a thump, her mortification complete.

"Did I… did we… you know?"

Tim's reply was an apologetic mumble. "You, uh, wanted to. But I thought that maybe it wasn't such a good idea. And then you started getting out of you clothes and-"

"Begging," Rory whispered, staring fixedly at the grubby carpet. How on earth had she let herself do this? To a high schooler? Shaking her head in resignation, she winced at the pain the movement send ricocheting around her skull. He must have noticed her discomfort, because Tim disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, returning with a glass of water and two aspirin.

"Thanks," she murmured, downing the tablets before pressing the blessedly cool glass to her forehead. As she sat, eyes closed, a thought occurred to her.

"Why did you stay?" She asked, raising her eyes to his for the first time. He looked startled by the question.

"Huh?"

"You could have left. You didn't have to crash on the floor."

He shrugged. "Thought maybe you'd get sick or somethin'. Didn't seem right to just leave you. 'Sides, you seemed to want me to stay."

Unsure how to respond to that, Rory lowered her eyes again. Tim shifted uncomfortably.

"I can leave now, you know. I mean, you're, uh, obviously ok and everything so I can just…"

"No!" Rory told him, surprising even herself. She found herself flushing an even deeper scarlet. "I mean, of course you can, but don't feel like you have to go, in the middle of the night. You can stay on the bed if you want to."

He cocked and eyebrow at that, and she sighed in frustration.

"I won't assault you, I promise! I just thought… the floor can't be comfortable, and if you don't want to drive all the way home now, you could maybe-"

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay," he repeated simply, brushing a lock of dark hair away from sleepy eyes. Rory took a steadying breath.

"Well then, that's… okay, I guess."

They both smiled hesitantly.

"Hey, Tim?"

"Mmm?"

"Could you maybe, ah, go to the bathroom while I digs out some pjs?"

"Of course," he replied, turning obediently around and disappearing through the open door.

_What on earth am I doing?_ Rory wondered as she rooted around her bag for an old tee shirt.

_Hell if I know_, her brain replied.


	3. Chapter 3

_What on earth do you think you're doing?_

The question reverberated through Rory's brain as she lay staring at the ceiling in the dingy motel room. Here she was, a grown woman, passing through town on business and she had managed to find herself lying in bed at 4am with a raging hangover and a teenager who looked more adult than he had any right to sprawled across the other side of her bed.

She had finally lost it. That was the only answer. The stress of the job, finding out that Logan was engaged, it had all become too much for her. She was destined to become some alcoholic cougar type, stalking the innocent young men of the Deep South.

Tim shifted in his sleep and sighed deeply, attracting her gaze to his chest as it rose and fell. _Ok, _she admitted to herself. _Not exactly innocent_. _But teenage, nonetheless. _

Unable to tear her eyes away, Rory watched Tim as he slept. It felt like she should be more aware of his age now. As if all of that hard ass attitude would fall away to reveal the little boy he truly was. But he didn't look like a boy. _No_, she thought. _He does not look like a little boy at all_.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been staring when she registered a change in his breathing. Then, slowly, she saw a dimple emerge in his cheek before his eyes slowly opened and he slid his gaze towards her.

"Can I help you with somethin'?" He enquired wryly, his voice still thick with sleep.

Rory shook her head, eyes wide, but her customary shyness around men felt silly when he was already in her bed. He grinned more broadly and rolled onto his side to face her, propping his head up on one hand.

"You sure? 'Cause you been lookin' at me for a while now"

"Well, I. uh…" Rory fumbled, searching desperately for a response. Suddenly Tim's face grew grave and he dropped his eyes from hers.

"Oh, I'm, uh, I'm sorry. Honestly, I mean, you're pretty sobered up and everythin' an if you'd like to me to go then I ca-"

"No!" Rory told him, and then again, more softly, "No. I asked you to stay and I meant it."

Tim's eyes were quizzical in the dim light as he scanned her face.

"Why?"

Rory looked at him, helpless, and finally gave him the only answer she could think of.

"I have absolutely no idea"

Tim kept looking at her, long enough to make her squirm in embarrassment. Just as she was about to give up and ask him to go, his arm snaked out and wrapped around her waist, pulling her across the sheets to him.

_Gilmore_, Rory told herself firmly, as she gazed, paralyzed into those green-flecked eyes. _This is absurd. More than that, this is __**wrong**_**. **_You can't possibly go through wi-_

And then Tim Rggins' lips met hers. And Rory closed her eyes and gave up on thought for the time being.


End file.
